


Dungeons and Dragons Club

by orphan_account



Category: Law Abiding Citizen (Polygon)
Genre: High School AU, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not RPF, it's a lot cuter than it sounds I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A crisp JPG. of a large fire, barely touching the bottoms of black on bright popping red lettering, makes it clear that this is not just another flyer for anime club. No, not anime club but a DnD club. DnD club? Russell had never heard of a DnD. He never considered himself to be very updated on modern media, but he’s sure he can’t be the only one who has never heard of this before.That is how Russell ended up outside the door of the computer lab after school hours, with a fancy flyer in his hand.





	1. Chapter 1

This flyer had been up in the stairwell for less than twenty minutes and Russell actually noticed it. Usually, it takes a force of nature to get him to notice the club recruitment flyers plastered across every inch of school property - but this caught his eye. A crisp JPG. of a large fire, barely touching the bottoms of black on bright popping red lettering, makes it clear that this is not just another flyer for anime club. No, not anime club but a DnD club. 

DnD club? Russell had never heard of a DnD. He never considered himself to be very updated on modern media, but he’s sure he can’t be the only one who has never heard of this before. He would ask around but there’s really not anyone he feels comfortable asking. Russell's lack of understanding of the teenage vernacular is a common joke among his peers, so he isn’t too keen on dealing with the backlash if he asks about this DnD. I mean, it’s a pretty cool flyer and he isn’t exactly lacking on free time. Why not learn about this club and maybe see if it's as awesome as its flyer.

That is how Russell ended up outside the door of the computer lab after school hours, with a fancy flyer in his hand. He can faintly hear the anime club down the hall, and the theater kids practicing upstairs, but not a single noise is coming from the computer lab. In fact, the lights are off inside the room. Still, Russ is never one to take the hint and opens the door without a second thought. The room is pitch black except for a plastic flashlight illuminating the underside of teenage boys face underneath his red hoodie. His eyes light up when he spots Russell, the once devious smile on his face melting into one of pure surprise. 

   “Holy shit, someone actually came!” The flashlight dips down on the boy's face before settling back to its original position. 

“Hello, mortal! You just stepped into my dungeon, where I - _ Doug  _ \- am the dungeon master. Which means, it’s time to play **dungeons and dragons.** ” 

Doug’s words take a few minutes to truly reach Russ’s brain, leaving a deadly silence between the two. The fact that it just seems to be the two of them isn’t phasing Russell as much as this talk about old-timey prisons.

“What’s dragons and dungeons?” Russell’s words seem to sap any joy out of Doug’s soul as he lets out a loud sigh. 

“If you’re looking for drama club they’re in the upstairs computer lab.” “-I’m not here for that! I’m here for this, the - uh - D-N-D club?” He holds out the flyer in front of him as if the boy could somehow see it in the dark room.

“Wait. You’re here for the DnD club-” “Yes” “-but you’ve never played DnD before.” 

Russell simply nods his head in response, not even phased by the boy's confusion of his motives. Doug grins like a b-level movie villain, slams his hands on the desk, and stands up. “Turn on the lights and let’s get started.”

With the lights on it becomes clear that Doug  _ really  _ likes DnD. The table is covered in a cardboard grid map, several die and tiny figurines are scattered around the edges of this map and a big black binder sits open at the end of the table. Whatever this game is it seems complicated, which instantly bores Russ. Doug, however, is not boring at all. With the large bags under his eyes, his greasy hair, and most of all his eyes. He looks at Russell with a fire that melts him inside and out. No one has ever been that passionate around him -  about him \- it made Russell almost intimidated by how intense this boy’s gaze was.

   “Wait. I think I had you as a chem partner last year. It’s Russell, right?” “Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah. It’s Russell.” Doug smiled wide, and Russell forced himself to look away. That only made Doug smile wider. 

“Well, Russ. Have you ever played a tabletop roleplaying game before?” 

The next hour is spent with Doug trying his best to explain the rules of Dungeons and Dragon to a half-listening Russell. Doug's lengthy explanations were spoken like a college professor talking about world wars, but instead, it is about how many times Russell will need to roll a die. Every Once and awhile he would ask if Russ is still paying attention (he never was) before continuing on his exploits about the art of the class system. Russell instead took to studying the cracks in the drywall, or the scribble marks on the whiteboard, anything that wasn’t staring intently at this stranger for a creepy amount of time. He’s had a problem with staring at people he deems he shouldn’t, specifically other boys. Doug was Russell’s worse nightmare, an interesting-boy-stranger, the worst hybrid of all for him.  

“So what’s your character, Russell?” 

Russell puts down his pencil and careful straightens the papers in his hand. He clears his throat and hoists his character sheet in front of him like a news anchor. 

“My character’s name is Russell, and he’s a human sorcerer.” Doug snorted at Russell’s professional delivery, resting his head in his palm as he spoke. 

“Why a sorcerer?” “I don’t know. I’m not super good at punching baddies, so I thought why not have magic spells punch baddies for me!” 

“You’re hilarious, Russell” He felt a surge of heat rise in his chest, like pride but heavier. 

Doug picked up his character sheet, and it is far less empty than Russell’s. The margins are filled with little notes about his character's backstory and quirks, it’s clear Doug put a lot of thought into this character. He’s a bit embarrassed seeing Doug go so in depth, while his character is literally himself but cooler. 

   “My character is Beelzebub and he’s a tiefling druid.” “Oh. He seems pretty cool.” 

“Thank you, Russell! I quite like your character too, it’s pretty cute.” 

Doug reads scenarios from a big book with dragons on the cover, which seems fitting really, as the second hour dwindled down. The two are in the middle of wave echo cave before Russ’s watch beeps, signaling to him that he needs to get home. It surprised him how into this game he had gotten after Doug's explanation had bored him to death. 

“Sorry Doug, I have to go.” “Aww.  _ Russell,  _ but we were having fun!”

“I know, I’m sorry I have to get home. Family, y’know?” Russell turns off his watch alarm and stands up, grabbing his backpack from off the chair. “I don’t get it, but it’s fine. Will I see you Friday?” 

Russell pauses for a moment, his brain doing mental leaps as he weighs his options. He smiles and nods. 

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” “Good! That’s great.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Russell spends the beginning and ends of his weeks with Doug playing DnD. He never planned to get into this role-playing game as much as he has. He gasps when his character gets hurt, and cheers when Doug, or Beelzebub, inevitably heal him. Doug does a lot of crazy things, tending to try and get away with murdering anything he can. Russell even starts to play along, trying to pickpocket any NPC Doug brings up. He lavishes in the laughter that comes out of Doug when he does terrible things, purposefully trying to do things to humor the both of them. Though never going too far. Russell’s DnD character runs head first into most things for that reason, which leads to Beelzebub having to constantly preen and pamper him. Doug would constantly buy healing items, stocking up on things to boost Russell any way he can - even if that really wasn’t his classes job. 

Beelzebub was more of a self-insert character than even Russell’s was most of the time. Doug would constantly speak for Beelzebub, never really delineating when Beelzebub was or wasn’t speaking. The only time Russell was sure Doug wasn’t talking through his character is when he was talking to him or about some spell he was casting. Russell’s character tended not to speak as much, with Doug having to push Russell in asking if he  _ really  _ said that to this guard or not.

“No! Russell says, uh. Excuse me, but we’ve been asked to investigate this place, so you should let us through. Please” “I’m shaking in my boots, Russ.” 

“Well, I’m not going to be rude about it! This guard seems nice” Russell falls back against the chair, grinning from ear to ear. Doug rolls his eyes and flips through a few pages of his book before shaking his head. 

“You’re too nice, they don’t budge. Be a little more forceful!” 

Russ scoffs. “You just want me to kill him!”

“I mean, it’d be  _ nice _ ” Doug smiles like he is making a deal with the devil, or maybe he is the devil. Russell feels that heavy heat blossom again and averts his eyes. 

“I cast prestidigitation, of like sparks! To scare them!” “They’re not scared.”

Russell shuffles his papers, searching for a non-violent solution within the spells mythical sounding names. He lets out a loud ‘a-ha!’ and swishes his head over to look at Doug. 

“I cast sleep!”

Doug lets out a sigh, pressing his face against the heel of his hand. 

“Why won’t you just kill ‘em, Russell.” He shakes his head, before throwing up his arms. “Fine. Roll your dice.” 

Russell enjoys Dungeons and Dragons, or maybe he just enjoys the way Doug plays. Doug tends to play fast and loose with the rules, letting Russell get away with most of the silly things he wants to do. Which usually is just pickpocketing, since Russell is too afraid to delve any deeper into this game. He knows Doug probably won’t care, but the way he plays this game it seems very ‘unholy’. Doug loves destruction, and not following the rules laid out in the handbooks and rule kits. He likes the freedom but he still feels like he’s defiling some law of the universe or something. As if him killing too many things in DnD will land him in criminal court. For now, he’s fine just pickpocketing strangers, handing their wallets back, and then being punched in the process.

Beelzebub was stronger, faster, and just generally better than his character. Doug normally never got below a ten on his d20 rolls, which would amaze Russ who normally always got below ten. The two played good cop/bad cop most of the time, with Russ leading the charge before Doug got bored and would murder them. That game was more of an argument than anything actually fun. A cat and mouse game of Russ attempting to stay within DnD’s carefully crafted lines, and Doug getting bored of waiting for Russ to find a solution. For someone who can go on long boring speeches, Doug does not have any patience when it comes to this game. He wants to be entertained and Russell's tightrope walk can get boring, even for him sometimes.

“Can you just kill him.” Russell glares down at the white painted on 1 on the die in shame, his spell casting falling flat on his face. “There are ways around this without killing.”

 Doug sighs, his face practically melding into the flesh of his hand at this point. His speech his slightly garbled as he says; “Are any of them fun, though?”  

Russell’s watch beeps, making Doug let out a loud groan. His face collides with the table, shaking some of the pieces on the map. Russell laughs at Doug's display, grabbing his bag per usual. Doug looks up at him from the table, his nose still pressed against the maple trim. He attempts to speak but it sounds more like a wordless mumble. 

“Huh?” Doug’s shoulders slump and he pulls himself fully off the table. “At least try something more dangerous next time, for my sake?” 

Russell frowns, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. 

“I’m not really that kind of person.” “ **Russell.** C’mon. It’s a roleplaying game! Live a little!”

He glances down at his watch as if he’s somehow it holds his moral compass. He can feel Doug’s eyes on him. They’re always on him, the boy always seems to give Russell his full attention for better or worse. 

“I’ll think about it.” “Good. You coming back Monday?” He always has to ask, this is the third week and Doug still has to ask Russell if he’ll stick around. Russell will, of course, but he doesn’t know why Doug keeps having to ask.

When school starts up on Monday, Russell actually notices Doug in his classes. The two have civics together, and Doug beams at him from the back of the class when he comes in the room. Russell sits in his usual seat at the front. 


	3. Chapter 3

Russell knows more about Doug than he knows about any other friends he has, which isn’t saying much. He would say that he sees Doug more than his friends, but he speaks with them every day at school so that’s not exactly true. He’s certainly had longer conversations with Doug than he has with others, the two often going off into tangents about stupid things like the price of hotdogs in fantasy worlds and the legal age for buying a cow. They were the dumbest things Russell has ever talked about, and he loves it. The sixth week in and Russell gets excited about every new meeting. Getting to hear Doug greet him at the door with his usual line of stretching his name out like he never wants it to end, just brings a smile to his face. 

Doug tries to get to know him a lot, but there’s really not that much to tell. The boy would inquire about his home life, relationships or interesting things he’s done with his life. Though there’s really no interesting way to spin a mundane white-picket-fence life with his relationship quota mostly pity dates and unanswered phone calls. So he answers blankly, giving Doug as much detail as there is to offer. 

“ _ So,  _ what do you want to do with your life, hot shot?” “Whatever.” 

Doug stares blankly at him, waiting for more information that won’t come. 

“Whatever? You’re just going to do whatever? There’s gotta be something you like to do? A hobby, or something!” 

“I mean. Doesn’t this kinda count as a hobby?” “Outside of playing DnD’s on Mondays-” 

“-And Fridays!” 

He let out a sigh that told Russell that this tangent is not as funny as he thinks it is. Russell played with the ends of his character sheet, bending and unbending it at nauseam. 

“I really don’t know, Doug. I go home, I sleep. I do work, I sleep again. I live a normal life.”

Doug rests a hand on Russell’s shoulder. His shoulders rise at the unusual touch, eyes shooting over to look at him. 

“Russell.” He says, purring it like a lazy cat in a cartoon strip. “You’re trying to convince me that you’re the most boring person in the world. Not the world, the universe. Galaxy, even! You are not that. I probably wouldn’t play DnD with you for this long if you were. I’m sure you like to do  _ something  _ other than sleeping all day.” 

Russell gives a small smile, practically beaming under the compliments just thrown his way. The hand on his shoulder suddenly becomes too real, too close, too hot. He tries to focus on Doug’s question, ignoring how long it’s been since human affection had been part of his life. Seconds pass by, then minutes. The two swimming in the sea of the now dead conversation they once had. 

“This should not be taking you this long-” “Cooking!” 

Doug blinks away the surprise, grinning at the proud display in front of him. Russell has straightened out his back, his eyes wide behind his oval lenses, as he exhumes a pride that many would wish they could get from something so small.

“Cooking, huh?” “Yeah! I cook for my parents all the time, and y’know, for myself too.” 

He pulls his usual devilish smile, cocking his head as he looks at Russell.

“Maybe you should cook for me sometimes.” “I like cooking all the time but like. I’m not always too great at it. There have been times where I’ve cooked stuff pretty bad. ” 

“Did you burn something down?” Doug quirks an eyebrow. 

“No! I mean. I’ve never really burnt anything, I’ve just messed up recipes sometimes.” “Oh, like salt instead of sugar?” “More like pepper.” 

Doug laughs, sending a wave of pride over Russell as he preens over his ‘amazing comedic skills’.

“You  _ have _ to tell me more.” 

When Doug finds something he deems interesting about Russell he latches onto it. Prodding Russell with questions about every facet of that moment, especially the parts that Russell doesn’t want to talk about. It always feels like Doug is a psychologist, poking around in these moments of Russ’s life to find where he went wrong; a la Freud. Except unlike a psychologist, he isn’t paying Doug, and Doug can actually laugh at his pain. The boy relishes in it, in fact, giggling at the moments that Russell thinks are humorless. Russell feels so proud to make Doug laugh this hard, even if he doesn’t find the jokes as funny. 

Doug never laughs at him. Well, he laughs at stories  _ about  _ him, but it never seems to him like Doug is trying to hurt his feelings. Maybe that’s because he’s always quick to compliment Russell, mostly through the mouth of Beelzebub when they actually get to play the game. They don’t play DnD as much as they should for a DnD club. Going off on tangents seems to be their staple, Doug usually asking Russell questions about himself that he really wants to know. 

His watch beeps and Doug asks if he’s coming back on Friday. He nods. 


	4. Chapter 4

Russell knows nothing about Doug. It hits him on the eighth week, in the middle of fighting some big monster-mutant thing in the middle of a city center. Doug is spouting out his plans to attack, telling some cool thoughtful maneuver and Russell realizes that this is what he knows of Doug. He knows Doug as Beelzebub, as his DnD character. Russ knows more about Doug’s DnD character’s backstory than his own, while Doug knows every part of his home life. He’s told Doug about his father and mother’s real estate business and their long work hours. Hell, he even told him about the fact that he knows where the key is to his mom’s hidden ‘mommy-juice’ cabinet is. 

It’s not that he’s not interested in Doug! He is, too much so for him to want to think too deeply about it. Russell just felt like he knew him, as Doug is a person who feels like everything you need to know about them is how they speak. It feels like he knows him, but he doesn’t. Not as much as he wants to. 

“Then I’ll use my free action to-” “I’m sorry, it’s just. What’s your life like?’

“What?”

“Y’know! Like. What’s home like, and what do you spend your free time on? Relationships? Secrets? Do you have a family booze cabinet?” Russell’s arms sweep in dramatic gestures, making tiny circles with his hands as he tries to convey something he has no words for. Doug watches, perplexed. 

“I-I just. Just. Y’know.” “Breathe, Russell. You’re scaring me.”

Doug’s hands moved to reach for his shoulder, but Russell pulls away. 

“I wanna know though. You. You’re cool, and I wanna know. Why.”

A beat of silence before that familiar laugh break. Doug covers his mouth with his hand, snort-laughing at the mumble-mouth sentence that just left Russell’s mouth. 

“That’s adorable.” He fixes the strings on his red hoodie he refuses to take off. “You really wanna know about me?”

Russell nods furiously, staring intently at Doug; who only smiled back. Then, Doug spoke. He told Russell about his night’s at home alone most of the time. The fact that as a kid he had every blade on his ceiling fan memorized down to its shade before he started biking around town. At first, he just biked to the library, but soon he started biking to weird shops around town. 

“The bad shops. Y’know, blasting heavy metal music or sometimes just opera.” “Like, a hot topic?”

Doug grinned. “Worse.” 

Doug chattered on about his days spent in black magic shops before he forgot to return home one night. His dad found out. 

“I got more than a stern talking to, he bought me a phone.” 

Russell listened to every word that Doug spoke like it held a riddle, like somehow if he listened long enough the secret to Doug’s whole being would be revealed. Yeah, he hung out in shops with witchcraft but that doesn’t explain why Doug is  _ Doug _ . He went on to tell stories about getting into fantasy and soon DnD, and the video games he likes to play and-

“Wait.” “What is it, Russell? Are you looking for something else?”

Russell stared at Doug intently, searching for the hidden code word within his eyes. 

“There’s more to you than...y’know. Dark stuff? You’re more!” “...I’m more?” 

“You’re like, deep!” He waved his arms again, floundering around for a gesture to make his words make sense. Doug only laughed. 

“You sound like you’re talking about your first college film!”

Russell has never been articulate, especially when it came to feelings. Those pesky worming feelings, that bounded past human language and left him speechless. Utterly speechless as he stares at Doug’s giggling expression. What is he even trying to say? He isn’t even sure anymore, he’s trying to describe an emotion that he himself has not truly defined. It’s like pride but heavy, fluctuating temperatures like a heat lamp in his gut, and it only seemed to grow the more the weeks passed. 

“Forget about it” He groans, snapping his eyes down to the maple wood table. 

“You should know that I won’t,” Doug said, softer than should be legal, standing up from the table to open his arms to Russell. Who only stared at his arms in confusion. 

“I’m. I’m asking for a hug, Russell.” “Oh!” 

Russell shot up from his seat, opening his arms with a sheepish smile. Never quite sure of himself. Doug smiled, piling into that hug like a steamroller. Russell took a step back to regain his balance, bending down slightly to be at a height to hug Doug back. The hug was warm and soft, making Russell go weak in the knees over it. He’s hugged his parents, sometimes even his friends. This felt different somehow, maybe he’s just seeing meaning where there isn’t but this hug felt special. It was a Doug Hug. Which is to say, a hug it feels like only Doug Peterson could. 

“Thanks for trying to get to know me,” Doug said, pulling back from the hug. “But I still have no idea what the fuck you’re trying to say.” 

Russell laughs too hard, wiping tears from his eyes as he realizes the reality that he’s in. 

“Let’s just play DnD already.” “Aww. You don’t want to know any more about me?” 

“I need to think of questions ahead of time first.” Doug sits back down in his seat, grinning at Russell. “Oh, you’ve got homework now, Russell.” 

The rest of the sessions presumes, with the two fighting the creature as best they can. Beelzebub pulls off several fancy maneuvers all made to make him look cool, taking every second of time he has to perform the perfect action. Russell, on the other hand, casts Blink successfully and disappears from the map. Doug raises an eyebrow, while Russell just stares intently at the map. Beelzebub spends his round healing himself, despite the fact that he is not nearly hurt enough to warrant it. Doug watches Russell, invested in this actual strategy he’s trying out. Russell’s character reappears, stepping out of the portal and right in front of the monster. Then, he jumps on him, pulling out the dagger and stabbing the creature. Actually stabbing him. 

“Holy shit! Something different - and violent - for once!” Russell gives a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Thought it’d be interesting.” “ _ Russell! _ ”  

His watch sounds and Doug shakes his head. 

“Just when it was getting good.” Russell grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Russ, how would you feel about holding this club every weekday?” “I’d like that.” 

“Will I see you on Monday?” He nods. 


	5. Chapter 5

The twelfth week rolls around and it becomes predominantly clear that this is taking up a large portion of Russell’s life. It’s hard not to slip references to stuff him and Doug have joked about into conversations with his friends. He tries to talk to Doug a little more during the day, slipping in little jokes when he does see him. It feels almost weirdly secret as if the two are running some underground business and just started talking about it in the middle of a crowded mall. No one really noticed, Russell’s friend’s side eyed him a bit but give little thoughts to his passing conversations. 

Russell and Doug’s conversations, however, were not at all in passing. The two saw each other every weekday, learning more about each other. Russell would bring a sticky note with one question for Doug every day, and Doug would always be flattered by it. The questions were stuff like ‘what’s your favorite color?’,‘hobbies?’, and ‘what music do you listen to?’ All stuff that Doug could answer pretty quickly, though he usually dragged it out. Russell wasn’t sure if he just really likes talking about himself or if Doug was expanding his answer to give his simple questions more context. 

The two’s boundaries slowly started slipping away, going from sitting upright in the chair to in beanbag chairs on the floor. Doug would hug Russell before he would leave, and Russell always got excited about it. That heavyweight kept growing, getting even deeper with each time the two would hang out. This wasn’t a DnD club really anymore, instead, it was more just them hanging out for two hours every weekday. Russell did everything he could to keep his mind from looking any deeper into it, trying his best to just enjoy the company. 

“Russ,” Doug asks, his head resting on Russell’s shoulder. “We should text each other.” 

Russ steels up.   
“Are you asking me for my phone number?” “Uh. Yeah. We’ve known each other for two months, and I think we’re pretty close. My face is currently on your blue cardigan, I don’t think I’d hurt if you texted each other.” 

Russell laughs, trying his best not to shake his shoulders. He shuffles around in the pocket of his skinny jeans before pulling out his phone. 

“You’re right... I just, I don’t know.” “Rough past with phone numbers?” 

“Yeah. Just. Got a lot of fake ones.” Russ opens the tab for new contacts. “Hey, at least you had the courage to ask, Russ-topher.” 

“Not really. Someone else asked for me, I chickened out.” Russell turned on his camera, snapping a photo of a sleepy Doug on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Russell pulls the camera up and away from Doug’s grasp. “Delete that, Russell!”

“I like it!” Russell grins down at Doug, whose shifted now to sit back on his knees. His hands swatting at the phone like a cat. 

“At least let me see it!” “Fine, fine!” 

He turns the photo over to Doug, who looks mortified. 

“That is the worst photo of me I’ve ever seen.” “What are you talking about? You look fine!” 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Russell, I’m not paying you.” Doug groans, slumping full down into his bean bag chair so his knees are higher than his actual head. 

“No, I’m not lying! You look…” Russell freezes, words trapped at the end of his tongue as he realizes what he’s about to say. He steels up, suddenly ashamed of the moment he was about to ruin with those thoughts. He clicks back to the contact tab. 

“Exactly.” Doug mumbles, barely audible past the polyester. 

“That’s not what I mean. I’m just bad with words!” Russell chooses the contact photo and passes his phone over to Doug. A few seconds later Doug nudges Russell’s phone back into his hand. 

“Should I send you a text now? So, it’s cemented.” “Mm. Sounds good, that way I won’t have to wait around for you to text me.” 

“...What’do I say?” Doug laughs, which Russell doesn’t understand. It’s a serious question! 

“I appreciate that you’re trying to impress me with some smooth opening line, Russell. But maybe don’t ask me for advice on what to say to me.” Doug’s smile, partially hidden under the plush of the beanbag and his riding up hoodie is a beauty that Russell can’t explain. He’s seen beauty before - or at least what beauty is supposed to be. That beauty is one of perfect angles and lighting, accentuated features and perfect posing. That beauty isn’t this beauty. Russell is looking at Doug from an aerial view; seeing the fullness of his body being consumed by blue polyester and red fabric. The lighting is the subpar quality of the ten-year-old school computer lab light bulbs, which cast more of a confusing color palette than a healthy glow. Doug is smiling though, he’s laughing despite the fact Russell’s pretty sure his knees are digging into his chest. Maybe it’s the meaning of the situation more than the idea of beauty, or perhaps Russell has a thing for bean bag chairs. Or maybe he just has a thing for Doug. 

Russell stalls, his eyes choosing to study the intricate designs of his blocky waterproof watch. He fiddles with the bracelet, clasping and unclasping like he’s putting out a morse code message to God. 

“How about I just say something simple like ‘Hi, Doug. It’s Russell.’” “Quick to the point I  like it. Doesn’t really start a conversation though.” 

“That hasn’t stopped us before.” Russell types out his carefully crafted message in his usual bravo. Which is to say, with little formal punctuation and nothing else.

hey doug it’s Russell

It’s perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

Doug isn’t a perfect texter by a long shot. Texting Doug in the morning is a surefire way to not get an answer back, with the opposite applying to Russell. The two often would overshoot each other’s sleep schedule, with Doug bombarding their chats with links to videos at 2 am and Russ responding at 6 am.  

Still, despite it all, Doug does answer him quickly when he is up. Messages are often exchanged under desks during school hours, or sometimes just on top of the desk if Doug is concerned. There have been a few questions raised about Russell’s texting habits, but he doesn’t share any details no matter who asks. It feels personal to him somehow, like his own little slice of insanity amidst the banality of his life. Doug is a huge part of his life, taking up most of the space in his schedule and on his phone.

                                                                                  can you stay an extra hour tmrw?? 

And he was always quick to give Doug even more of time in his life. Russell never thought anything of their meetings or the sweet messages they share. After all, he was too busy worrying about his own thoughts to think about someone else's. Though, for once, it all clicked in his brain. 

This special extra hour meeting is what Doug calls ‘the Trials of Terror,’ or basically three hours of DnD. Beelzebub and Russell are in some sort of multi-level prison, with different areas needing one of them to sacrifice something to continue. Beelzebub is sacrificing a lot, losing life and limb in every single trial put in front of them. Russell even offered to give something up, but Doug just brushed it aside. It made sense, after all, Beelzebub would be fine if he risked a lot while Russell would cave. However, Doug's comments were not fine. 

“I’ll give up anything for my everything.” He smiled at Russell as if what he said was per usual. Does Doug always compliment him this much? He became keenly aware of Doug's shoulder against his, and the text messages they’ve shared. The Lovey Dovey words rolled in his head like a film reel and he thought. Mind grinding through a realization that took way too long to finally reach the surface. 

“Russell? You in there?” Hand on his. Warmth blossoms in his chest, the look on his parents faces when they saw his text conversations flashes into his mind and he suddenly forgets how to breathe. Doug. Doug Doug Doug. Something about the moment, maybe the lighting or the burrito he ate this morning, gave him a sinking sense of dread. He doesn’t want to look at Doug, especially not while his mind is racing like this. 

“You’re supposed to roll now-” “1. I - I got a one.” 

“That looks like a 15 to me.” Doug raises an eyebrow, looking at Russell’s quickly tossed die like a detective in a crime drama. It feels like the fires of hell in this room to Russell, whose eyes zip around the room like flies. 

“I have to go home.” “What? It’s only been an hour!” 

“I - I have to go. Now. It’s important that I leave.” Russ grabs his bag in a rabid daze, shoving his papers forcibly into the bottom of it. Doug’s eyes are on him, and he’s sure that they don’t look happy. He doesn’t want Doug to worry about him, but he’s also not good at faking a calm reserve. 

“Okay? Will I see you on Monday?” “I have to go.”

Doug :

8:30 am : read          Russell are you okay

3:10 pm : read         Seriously. wtf was that.

6:20 pm: read          lets at least get tacos together or smth!!

Me:

8:40 pm: read           I even dont know your address

Doug :

8:50 pm: read         will you actually show if i tell u it?? 

 

Russell pulls up outside a beige house, double-checking the address a few times before parking in their driveway. The lights are off, but he knows not to trust that as an indicator that Doug isn’t there. Time ticks by slowly, before he quickly presses the horn for emphasis. The sound actually scares him, but it seems to get the point across as the front door opens. Doug steps out without his red hoodie, which is the biggest shock of all to Russell. The shirt is a light yellow, with palms trees plastered across the front, and the words “I gotta go where it’s warm” curved down the middle. It’s a weird sight considering that Russ always thought he was lying when Doug would say his music taste is ‘complicated.’ He expected screamo, not Jimmy Buffet. 

Doug opens the passenger seat door and hops in, grinning at him like yesterday didn’t happen. Russell just stares at him like a deer in the headlights, encapsulated by the revelation before him. 

“What?” “You...You listen to Jimmy Buffet?” 

Doug’s eyes flash from his shirt to Russell, before snorting at the wide-eyed boy staring at him.

“Yeah? I love Mr. Buffet, he’s a musical genius.” “ _ What?”  _

“Look, are you going to take me to Taco Bell or what? Your dates getting hungry.” Despite the laws of nature and mankind, Russ’s eyes managed to get even bigger. This humor isn’t new, and Russell knows that, but somehow after yesterday that comment just leaves a stone of dread in his heart. 

“Taco Bell? Isn’t there a better taco place that’s close?” “I appreciate the sentiment, but unless you want to drive to a bigger town, we’re eating fast food. I mean, the restaurant is a crime against nature but I’m impatient.” Russell wasn’t exactly intending to have a bowel experience today, but he too wasn't willing to drive too far for decent food.

He parks the car in an abandoned patch of land adjacent to the taco bell. The restaurant's sign casts orange hues onto the beige bags in between their seats, which have created a taco bell wall between the two. Doug opens his bag quickly, making good work of putting copious amounts of hot sauce on his overstuffed tacos. Russell, on the other hand, spends the first few minutes staring at his dashboard. 

“Your food’s going to get cold, and trust me, that will not be a good taste.” Doug nudges Russell’s bag over to him with his elbow, his eyes meeting the others. They lock eyes for longer than Russell would like; forcing himself to snap his attention down to his quesadilla. He eats his food slowly, focusing harder on the box it came in than he does his homework. A few beats of silence, the two eating their food in a dead weighted silence. It’s unbearable, but Russell isn’t going to be the one to break it. 

“Look. What in the hell was going on that last meeting? Is everything okay?”

Silence. Russell closes his eyes, nibbling on his quesadilla as slow as molasses. 

“I care about you, Russell. I can help if there’s something wrong? Is your family being harsh to you?” “No.” 

“What is it then? Just say something to me that isn’t one word, Russell! Russell?” Russell’s eyes are closed so tight he swears his eyes are going to pop. That stone of dread grows into a boulder, then a mountain. 

“I-I can’t.” “Why can’t you talk about it?” 

Russell turned the car back on, zipping out of the lot like a cop is on his tail. 

“Seriously? What is going on? Are you in trouble?” “No.” 

“Are you hurt?” “No.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I need to think.” He stops the car in the Doug driveway and shuts off the engine. Russell slams his head against the steering wheel, nearly missing the horn. He brings his hands up to his face, ranging his fingernails against his cheeks. Doug wraps his arm around his shoulder. Too hot. His parents flash in his mind and he jerks his body away. 

“No.” Doug stares at him, wide-eyed and confused. He looks terribly sad, something that makes Russell want to jump out his car window when he realizes he’s the one that caused Doug to look that way. “I need to go home.” 

“Will I see you on Monday?” “Y-yeah.” 

Doug steps out of the car. He stares at Russell through the window, opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. Russell watches him close the front door before realizing that Doug left his taco bell in his car. 


	7. Chapter 7

Doug has known heartbreak in his life, and you’d think that would make him be less trusting of those that just waltz into his life. Russell didn’t even waltz into his life, he fell. Confused and curious, Doug just couldn’t get enough of Russ. He was sweet, kind, but still loved testing the boundaries of the constructs around him. 

An hour passes before he knew that Russell wasn’t coming. The realization wasn’t exactly a sudden heart-breaking moment, but more a slow descent into pain. He liked to hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. Perhaps Russell is planning some grandiose display for him, or his car broke down. But none of those excuses really made sense to him because Russ would tell him if something happened. Right? After the taco incident, the text conversation between the two has dried up like a river in a dessert. Doug knows Russell needs time, but he still said he’d be here. Instead, Doug is sitting in the computer lab alone. On the first day of the DnD club, he didn’t expect anyone to show up, and Russell did despite his expectations. Now, Russell defies his expectations once again. 

Me:

3:40 pm: read are u coming??

3:50 pm: read can u at least tell me if ur not so i can go home

4:20 pm: read r u okay? 

4:50 pm: read im sorry if i did smth wrong

5:00 pm: read talk to me

 

Weeks pass. No, a month pass and the two’s relationship seems to be on autopilot. Russell doesn’t acknowledge his existence, at times Doug feels more like dead air than a person. If this is a joke it stopped being funny a long time ago. He doesn’t hold DnD meetings anymore, after all, there’s no point in playing the game alone. Whenever people talk about losing a relationship it seems to be quick, like a lightning bolt tearing through a roof of a house. Yet, there’s no finality about this exchange for Doug. He wants to put this behind him, but there’s always a hope that maybe things will go back to normal. 

Me :

2:34 am: read im sorry im sorry im sorry

3:40 am: read im not sorry. i didnt do shit to you

3:50 am: im sorry

Doug finally stops texting when the second month rolls around. It’s a boring funeral, with no one there but Doug and his impulse control. He sometimes clicks on the number by accident, Russell’s contact picture usually bringing a pitiful smile to his face. 

That picture is Doug’s favorite of the several he’s taken behind his back. It has Russ in the middle of his loudest laugh, nearly seconds before he shot Pepsi out of his nose. It’s silly and stupid, and Doug loves it. The other pics in his repertoire are usually blurry snapshots of Russell laughing, or generally smiling in a way that Doug found cute. Some are not are adorable though, like the pictures of Russell's body contorting to try and fit in small spaces around the room. Or the one of him trying to do pullups on the door frame and almost breaking his spine. 

He considered deleting them, but Doug could never bring himself to it. 

The last day of school rolls around and Doug has stopped holding out hope. Per usual, he had not planned to go on the last day of school. Most don’t come to school since exams are over, and perfect attendance means nothing to stressed seventeen-year-olds. 

Russell :

6:20 am: read dnd today

Doug want’s to yell. He wants to scream so loud that the ground will shake, and the earth will split open right under Russell's feet. It’s been months of radio silence and then he drops  _ this  _ on him! Of course, he’s going to go, but it still annoys Doug that Russell took so long to say something.


	8. Chapter 8

Doug doesn’t get scared often. Haunted houses and scary movies never really did get him shaking in his boots. To the point where he had once believed that it was impossible to make him really scared. This moment, standing outside the darkened computer lab is probably the closest to real fear that he’s ever felt. He’s not trembling in his boots, but the uncertainty is making him sweat. It’s possible that it’s empty in there, dashing any remaining hope that Doug could be holding onto about Russell. Though it’s also possible that there’s only void behind that door, but speculating isn’t getting him any closer to the truth. 

Doug opens the door slowly, almost afraid of what he’s going to be walking into. In the middle of this dark room, a flashlight illuminates the bottom of Russell's face. Doug stops dead as the two make eye-contact, and a familiar silence falls over the room. 

“So-” “ _ What the fuck, Russell! _ ” 

“What is going on?” Doug flips the light on, his body language making evident that he’s had a lot of pent up emotions about this moment. Russell smiles sheepishly from under the red blanket over his head, he flicks off his flashlight and nudges a pie closer to Doug as he stomps over. “You ignore me, shunt me away like I’m some old toy you got sick of playing with! I go to the club, you’re not there. I sit alone for a fucking hour and a half, holding out the possibility that you might just show up! You don’t tell me shit and make me feel like shit! Then, you just send a text and...and…” 

Russell wraps his arm around Doug, who pushes it away. “No.”

“Talk to me first, please. What’s going on?” Doug sits down, staring at Russell with that old passion. Russell sits back down, pulling the blanket off his head. 

“I. I like you.” “You certainly don’t show it.” 

“No! I-I like  _ really  _ like you.” Doug doesn’t blink, hell he doesn’t even breathe when Russell says those words. “Look. I think you’re cool - more than cool, super cool! And cute and funny and… I thought that it wasn’t good to love you. A boy. I thought it was wrong for me to feel...Y’know. But no matter how many times I ran away from it, I just kept coming back. So, I mean, it can’t be bad if it feels good, right?”  

Russell looks to Doug for a comment, but the boy is speechless. His brain like scrambled eggs on a frying pan. 

“I just. I don’t think I’ve worked through it all yet, but I don’t think who I am is wrong. And...And I know all the things you said were just jokes, and I want us to still be friends and-” “Russell.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Russell looks down at his watch, fiddling with it as he always does when he’s nervous. “ ‘Didn’t wanna make it awkward.” 

“You made it more awkward by ignoring it!” Doug sighs, reaching out to touch Russel’s shoulder. 

“Russell, if my advances made you uncomfortable you should have told me-” ”No, it was nice! I just didn’t know how to handle them- wait, advances?” 

“I  _ really  _ like you too, Russell.” Doug smiles like this is easy, but it’s really not. Seeing Russell this torn is heartbreaking, ripping through his heart like a tornado. Russell starts to cry, his hands shaking as he shoves his glasses off his face. Doug wants to hold him. Hold him tight enough that all of those thoughts melt away. He settles for wrapping his arm around his shoulder, and Russell responds in turn by leaning against his chest. Doug falls to his knees, pulling Russell fully into his arms when his sobs get worse. They stay there for a few moment, Doug holding him tight enough to keep even the devil at bay. 

“C-Can I kiss you?” “Wipe your nose first, Russell.” 


End file.
